I always groan when I see the forecast is rain. I had a former co-worker who used to celebrate rain, and it always annoyed me.
“Rain is a sign to stay inside and cuddle with the one you love,” he would say.
No, rain is a sign that I can’t wear out my kid on the playground, or take the dog for a long walk. Rain is a sign that we’ll have to go to Bass Pro Shops AGAIN to look at the big fish tank AGAIN and spend all morning wandering around the mall avoiding toy stores and fast food.
I woke up one morning this week to the sound of it – the giver of life, the taker of my sunshine.
Groan and moan, I checked the forecast and yup, rain almost all week.
I had plans. I had park plans. Not to mention a mountain of errands to run that day, and getting a soaked toddler in and out of a car wasn’t on my agenda.
As soon as Monster realized it was raining, he sprinted to the closet and grabbed his rainboots, putting them on the wrong feet and looking up at me with a huge smile.
“Splash?” he asked.
“Yup,” I sighed. “Splash.”
I put on his raincoat and said a prayer as we headed out the door.
We were a few moments early for my regular appointment with the midwife. I counted my blessings that Monster was ready to run inside, as he remembered they have big crayons and dinosaur coloring books.
On the way out, however, I couldn’t avoid his pleads to jump in rain puddles.
“OK, friend, just a few minutes,” I told him.
I didn’t have my raincoat (prego brain that I am) and though temperatures were moderate, the big raindrops were cold.
As I begrudgingly watched my son find more pleasure in a small puddle than the ever has in any toy we got him, something happened to me.
I started to smile. I started to chase him. Before I knew it, we were both running through the fields behind the office, throwing rocks at the raindrops and laughing hysterically.
What is wrong with me? Why did I dread this? Who cares if both of us are soaked? Who cares if I have to put off my errands for an hour?
I will gladly have makeup running down my face if it means one more game of “Tushy” in the rain with my son.
(Tushy is our made-up game wherein we chase each other and try to pinch the other one’s rear end, all the while singing, “Tushy, tushy, tush-eeee!”)
Monster looked up at me from a puddle at one point, and I remember thinking, “This is life. This is THE life.”
Yup, traffic is worse in rain. Yup, running in and out of the grocery store is more difficult. Yup, we were both cold and ready to go home.
I still don’t think rain is a sign to stay inside and cuddle the ones you love. I think rain is a sign to get your tushy out the door and treasure the smiles that only big puddles can invoke.